From London With Love
by BDK89
Summary: Modern day AU. In which Belle decides to follow her dreams and moves from her small town in France to London to work for business prodigy Adam Dubois.


_Disclaimer: I own nothing_

As Belle was leaving the plane, she fished her phone from the depths of her purse. Time to text her father. Again. She smiled inwardly. Her father had warned her to keep him up to date as much as possible. He would not be disappointed. This was the sixth time she had texted him today. They had said their goodbyes only four hours earlier, at the airport in Geneva. It surprised Belle just how much she already missed her father. Since her mother had died several year ago, Belle and her father Maurice had never been separated for longer than a day or two. Even now that Belle was in college, she still lived at home. It was very fortunate that there was such an acclaimed University in her hometown. Still, at twenty-one years old you would expect to be able to manage a few hours without your father. Belle finally found her phone hidden between all the books she had insisted on bringing in her carry-on luggage and quickly typed a message to her father.

 _Papa, just arrived in London. Of course it's raining. I miss you! Love, Belle_

While fought her way through the crowds at London Heathrow airport, searching for a sign which pointed her towards the baggage claim, Belle thought about the three months ahead of her. The summer internship was a great opportunity, and she couldn't wait to get started. Although she did not have any intention to work for such a large company one day, the experience would be good. Her newly acquired Bachelor's degree in Foreign Languages, Literature and Civilizations would be worth so much more with some actual working experience. And, of course, it didn't hurt that she now had the chance to live in London for three glorious months. What could possibly be better?

* * *

Several stressful minutes later ( _why_ was this airport so large, _why_ were there so many people, _why_ did they decide to unload her suitcase last, after everyone had already left, _why?!)_ Belle had found a bus that would take her close to where she was going to be living. The less she had to carry the heavy suitcase through the large city, the better. Perhaps her father had been right; she could have left a few books at home. After all, she would be here for three months, and according to her internet research, the city of London was home to several libraries and bookshops.

Apart from looking up the best places in London for book lovers, Belle had done some research on her future boss. She had found out he had a very interesting Wikipedia page, which she had studied until she knew it by heart. Belle had jokingly told Maurice she was going to be working for Batman. Like Bruce Wayne, Adam Dubois had been orphaned at a young age. His father had been the CEO of a large company in France, and had left his only son with a considerable fortune. Now twenty-five, Adam had taken the company to new heights. With the headquarters of the company now in London rather than Lyon, its CEO had relocated to the British capital as well. And it just so happened he had been looking for a personal assistant. When Belle found out, she jumped at the opportunity. When she found out she had gotten the internship, she was beside herself. One of the walls of her small bedroom at home in Annecy was decorated with a poster of a red London bus, and it had been a dream of hers to visit the city for as long as she could remember.

* * *

By the time Belle finally arrived in Forest Gate she was exhausted, both mentally and physically. It had been a long day of travelling, and saying goodbye to her father had been somewhat of an emotional roller-coaster. The only thing she wanted right now was a nice cup of tea and her favorite book. Reading her tattered copy of _Le Morte D'Arthur_ was a guaranteed way to relax, Belle knew. It would have to wait for now though. As she approached the house, Belle felt a flutter of nerves. She had only ever spoken to her landlady via email. Mrs. Bourke sounded nice enough, if not a tad dramatic for Belle's taste. Something about needing to take care of people, and how everybody was too thin these days. However, Belle preferred living with a woman like Mrs. Bourke over sharing a flat with people her own age. She had just never really connected with them. Her father said it was because she had an old soul, but really other people just thought she was... _odd._

When she had found the right house, Belle took a deep breath and rang the bell. There was a little plaque next to the door. _L.G. Bourke_ , it read. "Coming!" a voice came from inside. Belle smiled to herself, Mrs. Bourke sounded very… _enthusiastic_. That was a good sign. The door opened to reveal a large middle-aged woman. Before Belle could take in any more details, she was pulled into a tight hug.

"You must be Belle!" the woman gushed when she had let go of Belle. "Come in, come in! I've made some food; you must be famished after a long day of travelling! I didn't know what you liked, so I just made some of everything. I've been… Oh, but where are my manners! I didn't introduce myself yet! My name is Lauretta Giorgiana Bourke; it is just _so_ nice to meet you!" She said all this very fast. Belle smiled shyly at Mrs. Bourke. "It's nice to meet you too, Mrs. Bourke, I'm Belle," she answered as she held out a hand, which Mrs. Bourke grasped in two hands. "Oh, you are just too skinny. Come! Come inside!" Mrs. Bourke babbled on about her Italian mother and her love for cooking as she led Belle inside, leaving the suitcases in the hallway. Belle looked around curiously, taking in her new home. It wasn't a large house by any means, and Mrs. Bourke had managed to fill every inch of the wall with pictures of what looked like herself in various outfits on a stage. Perhaps she was an actress? As they entered the kitchen, Belle stopped. She didn't think she had ever seen so much food before. "Are you… expecting more people?" she asked Mrs. Bourke uncertainly, though she wasn't sure her question was heard, as Mrs. Bourke was busy fixing their plates and was still talking away.

"But of course, since my husband passed away, I haven't had the chance to look after somebody. Which is why I'm _so_ glad you're here!" Mrs. Bourke smiled widely at Belle. She had spent the last few minutes filling Belle's plate with all sorts of deliciously smelling food. She had barely stopped talking since opening the door. "Now. Let me put on some music. Do you like music? Let me see. Ah! _La Traviata_ , my favorite! Did I tell you I am quite the opera singer myself? Now, I never made it professional, but I still got some raving reviews for the amateur productions I was in! I'll sing you a nice aria one day, you'll like it! So, tell me a little bit about yourself! What kind of job is it you're going to be doing?" Before Belle could answer, however, Mrs. Bourke was already talking about her own job as a personal shopper at Harrods and was dropping hints about rearranging Belle's wardrobe for her. Belle smiled. She had a feeling she and Mrs. Bourke would get along just fine.

That night, much later than she would have liked, Belle finally got the chance to open her laptop and write a long email to her father. After all, it had been a full three hours since her last text; she didn't want him to worry. And, of course, she missed him. She wanted to tell him all about her adventure so far and Mrs. Bourke; she had a feeling Maurice would get a laugh out of the story of the woman who had made enough food to feed a small African country just to welcome her new tenant. It was strange that she couldn't just go downstairs, pour a cup of tea and tell her father all about her day. It had been a tradition in the Cloutier family since before Belle's mother had died to sit down for a drink after dinner and discuss the day's events. And even though Belle wasn't sure she would be able to have a similar ritual with Mrs. Bourke, it wouldn't be the same without her father either way. Tears started to well up, but Belle blinked them away. she opened her laptop and started typing.

 _Dear Papa…_

* * *

 _AN: So. Yeah. Hi, guys. I'm still alive. Surprise! It's been ages since I last posted anything here, but this little piece just sort of happened. I promise I'll at least try to keep updating it on a regular basis, but I'm super busy with, you know, life and stuff. But I'll try._

 _Anyway, what do you think? Yay? Nay? Let me know, reviews are much appreciated!_


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